Fireworks
by scorpiaux
Summary: Kataang, OneShot. “Katara made it very clear to Aang that she didn't want to sit with him.” Because their relationship isn't always made of peaches and cotton candy. Rated M.


**Fireworks**

**Summary**: Kataang, OneShot. "Katara made it very clear to Aang that she didn't want to sit with him." Because their relationship isn't always made of peaches and cotton candy. Rated M.

**Author's Note:** i luv eazter bunnehs. -scorpiaux.

* * *

When they went to see the fireworks, Katara made it very clear to Aang that she didn't want to sit with him.

And there was the reasoning: "I'm still mad at you!" "Ha! You think just because it's a holiday you're going to get off easy?" "Don't touch me; don't touch me!" And by far the most popular, "Don't you dare, Aang!" Plus a little slap on the Avatar's wrist, and a devious pout.

But they ended up sitting together anyway, and when the fireworks started, so did Katara's complaints. It was too cold for them to be sitting outside. Her bottom was hurting. The explosions were too loud. And Aang was sitting too close.

"This is the worst day ever," she fused, crossing her arms and squinting into her lap. Then she looked up at Aang furiously. "I hate this! I want to go home. This is a complete waste of my time."

The Avatar replied evenly, "Would you like for me to buy you something, Katara?" He took out his wallet. "A drink? Some cookies?"

"Nothing is going to make me feel better," she spat in response. "And I'm still not forgiving you."

Aang sighed and pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. "Katara—"

She warned crossly, "Don't reason with me!" and sported her devious pout again, turning her head.

Recently, Katara had been aggravating him.

The problem was, while _he_ could never stay mad with her, _she_ certainly could. His little waterbender had acquired the tendency to hold grudges. When she was angry she would fuse a list of insults that Aang found crude and unladylike. And the worst part—when everything was through and over with, she would deny ever saying anything. Or she would claim, "I'm sorry, Aang...you know how it is when I lose my temper."

And then she would kiss him, as if to make him forget.

She had been losing her temper too often, and Aang was getting the white hot end of it. So he decided—while sitting with an enraged Katara on the grass, watching the fireworks—that he was going to try something tonight, and maybe (only if he was lucky) it would breed results.

"I still can't believe you," Katara started, not looking at him. "I shouldn't have come with you today. Sokka shouldn't have persuaded me. Then again, he doesn't have to worry about _Toph_ looking guys up and down—she's blind! I get stuck with a pig." Katara's face was bright red, recollecting. "How short was that whore's skirt, again? How long were you looking at it?"

She had turned to the sound of Aang's quick footsteps. And when she looked and focused out the blaring light of the fireworks, he was gone.

For a long time, she didn't follow him, and this gave Aang the opportunity to walk out of the spectator's area and into the actual park. He walked the length of a short bridge, built over a man-made pond, where little turtleducks bobbed in and out of the water.

"Ugh," he said, looking at the water.

She was driving him crazy. This was the fourth time in the past six days she had grown angry with him, and he still didn't understand why she had flipped so quickly. There had never been a problem with his fans before.

As the Avatar, it was only natural for him to have crazy people following him around—in fact, almost half his fans were men and boys, praising him for his strength and toughness during the war. They would gaze on him in adoration of maybe one day being as strong and as popular as the Avatar. But then...

Well, there were girls, too. And they were the far more...expressive type. The difference between the male fans and the female fans was simple: the girls wanted the Avatar to take them. They wanted to be associated with him directly, in any way they could be. The valiant few of them would rip off pieces of his clothing. Another few of them would tear off pieces of their _own_ clothing, or just take them off completely, leaving Aang blinded in the aftermath.

And he had explained time and time again to the jealous waterbender staring at the sidelines, "They're just fans, Katara. I'm being honest when I tell you that they mean very little to me. They're just crazy, you know? Little girls."

(She would retort by making a rather unnecessary comment on the size of each girls' breasts, and that if they were "little girls," the size would indeed be different.)

"Besides," Aang would finish, moving a strand of hair away from her face, "I love you, Katara. Isn't that enough? Can't you trust me, when I say it?"

He leaned over the railing of the bridge and felt embedded with these thoughts. Aang groaned and sent the turtleducks scuttling off in the opposite direction at the sound of his voice. And Katara's footsteps there—and her lack of breath from trying to catch up with him—couldn't have been more out of place.

He watched her walk up to him, her brows down, mouth pressed into a thin line. She crossed her arms. "Why did you just leave?" she asked, blatantly upset. "You can't just leave!"

Aang replied calmly, looking into the water, "It was so obvious you didn't want me there."

"But you can't just leave!" she continued, still red-faced. "It's rude to leave the person you're with—extremely rude!"

Aang rolled his eyes. "Katara, you're rude all the time."

(And this is when the argument began, and they were thankful (subconsciously) for the blaring of the fireworks, so that the spectators couldn't hear their words.)

"I am _not_ rude all the time! My rudeness is a response to your immaturity."

"Like I'm really all that immature!"

"Yes you are—a complete child!"

Aang narrowed his eyes.

"All you're good for is looking up girl's skirts, you pig!" She was spitting the words. "I'm not enough, that's what it is, isn't it?" Katara mimicked him, clasping her arms together in mock adoration, "I'm the _Avatar_! I need all these lovely concubines! Look at the enormous size of my—"

He grabbed her arm. "Stop it, Katara," he warned. "Stop it. Listen to what you're saying, for once."

"I always listen to what I'm saying—I can't believe you." She tried to shake free, but Aang's grip was strong. He grabbed her other arm.

"Let me go!" she protested loudly, trying in vain to shake him off. "I told you not to touch me! Let me go!"

"No." Aang held fast. "You go crazy over the _stupidest _things—the _smallest_ things! And then I have to run around and try to make rhyme and reason out of it." He clenched his fists tighter. Katara wilted underneath his grasp, sighing and pouting in frustration.

He pulled her arms up over her head and leaned her body over the bridge, so that her back was pressed against the railing.

Katara looked behind her and grunted. "Let me go!" she repeated, trying to shake him off. "Aang—Aang—stop!"

He stared her down and said nothing.

"This hurts," she managed, attempting to pull her arms down. He jerked them up again and drew his body closer. Katara was then placed in an unfortuante position, with both of her legs between his so that she couldn't kick, and her arms pinned above her head, and her back bent over the bridge.

And put plainly, it wasn't fair.

"When are you going to trust me?" he murmured darkly. "When, Katara? When are you going to understand that I don't like arguing with you?"

"Stop talking to me!" she retorted, for which her arms were drawn even higher, and after which another frustrated grunt was released from the back of her throat.

"You go on little escapades with Zuko and Haru all the time. And you have your fan boys too."

Katara was whimpering with the effort of shaking him off. She wondered when Aang had grown this strong.

"I never say anything," Aang continued, leaning further into her. "You know why? Because I trust you." He kissed an exposed expanse of her neck, sending goosebumps over her skin. For once in a very long time, she was honestly afraid of what he was going to do next. It was almost as if this was a different person holding her here, threatening her.

She whimpered softly—almost uncontrollably—and tried to squirm away from him.

"But I'm not getting any trust back," Aang stated coldly into her neck. "You're treating me like some sort of criminal, and I have yet to do anything. Why, Katara?"

She could feel the pressure of his teeth against her skin, and while—under any other circumstances—this would have been exciting, it was only terrifying her. Just because she was a waterbender didn't mean that she would land on all fours, so to speak. And the pond was deep, and there was sure to be rocks at the bottom.

"Why?" he pressed.

"Oh, because! Because!" Katara caught his gaze—both fuming, upset with their position and the turn of events that had led them here. Her voice wavered. "Because I love you!" she exclaimed, breathing hard with the effort of escaping him.

Aang paused. Slowly he dropped her arms and stepped back.

She rubbed her wrists where his grip had been. "Isn't it obvious, Aang? Isn't it? I'm just...afraid, okay?" She began signaling with her hands. "I'm afraid! There it is! I've said it." Then she turned her back to him and stared at the pond beneath. "I just don't want to lose you," she concluded softly. "I'm afraid...of all this popularity."

"You shouldn't be."

"But I am."

"But I love you too. So stop worrying."

The fireworks had settled, and a loud applause erupted from the audience some two hundred feet away. And by this time she had caught his lips between hers and wrapped her arms about his shoulders, as if to make him forget.

It was obvious that they still had miles to go before they could be considered perfect. Katara had pulled him into the trap of her victimization again. And he had fallen for it. He was kissing her now, after all...and the argument! Ah, what became of the argument? In all honesty, Aang could barely remember.

Their words had disintegrated like the ash of explosions, landing somewhere where they would surely be found afterward.

And anxiously, they both awaited the arrival of another argument.


End file.
